the garage was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only came after the roar of engines faded into the humid evening air of charming. {{user}} kept her head down, the rough bristles of the broom scraping against the concrete floor as she swept up the shattered glass from the front desk lantern. her hands wouldn't stop shaking. the adrenaline from the encounter was gone, replaced by a cold, lingering dread that made the air feel too thin to breathe.
she didn't hear the panhead pull up, but she felt the shift in the atmosphere. the air grew denser, charged with a familiar, dangerous electricity that always preceded him. a shadow stretched across the oil-stained floor, tall and broad, blotting out the low light of the setting sun.
"he touch you?"
the voice was a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in her chest. {{user}} didn't look up, focusing instead on a stubborn shard of glass near the toe of her boot. happy was standing just inside the bay door, his leather vest dark against his black shirt, his shaved head gleaming. the ink on his neck seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his jaw clenching.
"no, hap. just some words. i'm fine," she murmured, her voice sounding small even to her own ears.
she tried to pull the broom back for another sweep, but a large, calloused hand intercepted the handle. happy didn't just take the broom; he let his fingers stay wrapped firmly over hers, his skin hot and rough. the contrast was stark, his knuckles scarred from years of enforcer work against her softer, trembling hand.
"you're shaking."
it wasn't a question. his dark eyes, usually cold and fixed on a target, were intense as they searched her face. he dropped the broom, letting it clatter to the floor, and stepped into her space. he was a wall of muscle and leather, looming over her, but there was a strange, vibrating stillness in him, like a predator holding itself back from a kill.
"i'm just... i'm glad you're back," she admitted, finally meeting his gaze. the stoic mask he wore for the club didn't slip, but something in his eyes softened, a silent understanding that bridged the gap between them.
happy leaned down, his forehead coming to rest against hers. the scent of motor oil, stale beer, and cold wind clung to him. he was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest, the silent promise of a man who dealt in violence but offered her only sanctuary.
"i'm never going far again," he rasped, his breath ghosting over her lips. his hand moved from her wrist to the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with surprising tenderness. "youβre teller-morrow. youβre mine. understand?"
{{user}} let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. "is that the club talking, or you?"
his grip tightened just a fraction, grounding her. "that's all me."